


A Little Fairy Dust

by MathClassWarfare



Series: We’ve Got Plenty of Time [14]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Established Relationship, Headcanon, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Noctis Lucis Caelum Lives, Older Noctis Lucis Caelum, Older Prompto Argentum, Older Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum, POV Noctis Lucis Caelum, Post-Canon, Resurrection, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21815188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MathClassWarfare/pseuds/MathClassWarfare
Summary: As Solstice approaches, Noctis thinks about magic.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: We’ve Got Plenty of Time [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1104645
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39
Collections: FFXV Holiday Gift Exchange 2019





	A Little Fairy Dust

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazyloststar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyloststar/gifts).



> The prompt was: "Noctis survives the Dawn [because yes please], and its his and Prompto's first winter holiday together since before the road trip. . ."

The sidewalks are unusually crowded with last-minute shoppers, and Noctis is starting to regret taking this route, but then the grin on Prompto’s face when they see the big tree in the square makes it all worth it. Noctis can understand his point, too—it’s quite a spectacle, all strung up with glass balls, sparkly white lights, and massive garlands of tinsel. An Insomnia-shaped star sits right at the top. He doesn’t protest too much when Prompto drags him across the street for a closer look. 

There’s a little ice rink set up in one corner of the square, where they’re blaring cheesy Solstice music and charging way too much for skate rentals. It’s mostly kids with their parents, and a noisy group of high schoolers who seem like they’re making the most of their holiday break.

Noctis can remember being one of those kids—too many feelings and too much time on his hands—trying to cope with the hopeless crush he had on his best friend by getting stoned and throwing snowballs at him. He takes a look around and says, “What happened to the snow machine?”

“Dunno. Seems kinda wasteful, right?” Prompto scratches under the edge of his beanie. “Anyway, snow’s overrated,” he adds with an uneasy laugh.

“Shit, sorry.” Noctis squeezes his hand. The last thing Prompto needs is a reminder of what he endured in frozen Niflheim, or the weird weather during the Long Night (people say they were getting hailstorms in Leide, by the end). 

Prompto shakes his head. “No, no—it’s fine.” At the foot of the tree, he wraps his arms around Noctis and says, “Hey! Our first Solstice together!”

He keeps saying this, but it’s not—not really. Sure, they would try to spend the actual holiday with their separate families, but Noctis remembers all the lazy afternoons the two of them shared over the years—marathoning new games, swapping comics, and eating leftovers, until they had to go back to school again. 

He runs his hands up Prompto’s back, pressing cold fingers into his puffy coat. “Well, it’s the first one where I get to do this,” Noctis murmurs, leaning in for a sweet, chapped-lip kiss. They smile at each other in the wake of it, and he lets himself bask in the attention of his favorite person in the world. He’ll never get tired of Prompto looking at him like this—like he sees Noctis for who he really is, and he’s still genuinely happy to be around him. Noctis often wonders how he got so lucky that his beautiful, hilarious best friend fell in love with him, too. He kisses Prompto again, and tries to communicate these feelings with the pressure of his lips, and the brush of his thumbs across red cheeks. 

They walk hand-in-hand around the tree and come across a little shrine to Shiva that someone has set up near the coffee stand. Prompto closes his eyes and Noctis looks away. It feels a little intrusive to watch him while he’s praying—a habit he’s picked up since the Glacian brought Noctis back. For a brief moment, Noctis considers joining him, maybe asking her to pass along a message to Luna, but he decides against it. He doesn’t ever say this to Prompto, but he doubts peoples’ prayers reach any of the gods anymore. As far as he can tell, there isn’t any magic left in this world—not in the old sense, anyway. 

Now that the crystal and the ring are gone, now that the last Lucis Caelum is officially dead and buried, now that the Scourge is eradicated, and the Astrals seem to have gone back to sleep, the people of Eos are left to fend for themselves. All Noctis has to offer these days are a few poems published under a pseudonym. He thinks they’re doing an excellent job without him, though.

He can’t summon the spectral weapons of his ancestors anymore, but sometimes Noctis manages to string together just the right words to conjure up an emotion in the person reading his work. He figures that’s a kind of magic.

He can no longer push himself through time, space, and nausea to warp from one spot to the next. But for the first time in as long as he can remember, Noctis is rooted in a place where he feels completely at home. Sometimes, he sits in quiet wonder at the life that he and Prompto have built together in their own little corner of the city, and all the ways they help each other heal and grow.

They leave the square and rejoin the throng on the sidewalk. Across the intersection, Prompto hops up onto a low wall to get some shots of the tree—the ornaments have now taken on the colors of the setting sun. They linger a few more minutes, Prompto resting his hands on Noctis's shoulders, and admire the scene before continuing on their way.

Noctis thinks he’ll make some hot cocoa when they get back to their apartment, after they take Umbra for a walk. Earlier, Ignis gave them a mix that he’d made—all they have to do is add water. Tomorrow, Noctis will retrieve the presents from their hiding spots, and hope Prompto doesn’t get _too_ mad that he didn’t stick to the one-gift limit. 

Outside the subway station, they stop to listen to a brass band performing Solstice songs, and Prompto throws a tip into an open case. The band starts playing a slower tune in a minor key, and Noctis recognizes it from when he was a kid. Suddenly, it’s 20 years ago. He’s back in the palace, lying on his stomach in front of the fireplace with Ignis—rolling toy cars across the rug while his dad sits reading nearby. When the anguished wail of the trumpet rises above the low, rich tones of the Tenebraen horn, it tugs at Noctis’s heart and makes him want to cry. The melody holds him. It reminds him that music is magic, too—sometimes uplifting, sometimes soothing, often resurfacing old comforts or pains so that people can reflect on them (and musicians wield other mysterious powers that were beyond Noctis even before he lost his own abilities).

He squeezes his best friend at his side, and he doesn’t let any tears fall—not yet at least. When the song ends, Noctis throws the band a couple more yen. Then he follows Prompto down into the station to catch their train home.

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling the FOMO because I didn't sign up for this exchange, so I'm very excited to do this treat for [Crazyloststar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyloststar/pseuds/Crazyloststar)! Thank you for including a sweet promptis request. 
> 
> Thank you fandom friends for your encouragement and creativity, and special thanks to [moonwaif](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonwaif/pseuds/moonwaif) for giving me feedback on this!
> 
> (I took the title from [Dawn Chorus](https://youtu.be/V9vx6J_pLCA), by Thom Yorke, from the album/short film ANIMA.)


End file.
